


Word of the Day

by Green



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Feels, M/M, but we don't talk about our feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 09:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/pseuds/Green
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WOTD: </p>
<p>assuage - to make (something burdensome or painful) less intense or severe: assuage his grief.</p>
<p>assuagement - the feeling that comes when something burdensome is removed or reduced</p>
            </blockquote>





	Word of the Day

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to nan for the idea

It's not a werewolf, or a kanima, or a witch or a demon or whatever else is lurking out there in the big scary world. It's nothing so supernatural. What puts Sheriff Stilinski down for the count is a switchblade, hidden away by a mugger and wielded at just the wrong moment. 

Stiles is, understandably, falling apart at the hospital. He feels like he's being ripped in two, the wound growing with every moment. He fiddles with his phone. His dictionary app informs him that the word of the day is _assuagement_. He snorts and Scott looks at him worriedly, makes a small sound like a whine. Stiles knows he must smell like worry and grief and other bad things to his best friend. He doesn't care.

Scott's mom keeps pushing half-frozen apple juice cups at him while his dad is in surgery, and Scott is asking him every five minutes if he needs something. Seriously, every five minutes, like clockwork.

"They said two hours. What's taking so long? It's been two and a half, what the hell?" Stiles mutters.

"I'll go check, okay?" Mrs. McCall says. It's good to have an in at the hospital. She disappears into the O.R.

"He'll be okay," Scott says to him.

Stiles doesn't respond. He blinks drily. Too dry, really; he's been staring at the big double doors for a long time. He knows he's acting crazy, but it's his _dad_. He's all Stiles has left. 

He doesn't know what he'll do if...

He loses himself in the thought, even though he knows he shouldn't. The hospital is a bad place for him. He hates it all: the scents of citrus cleaner and burnt coffee, the quiet beeps of phones and intercoms and heart monitors. He hates the way everyone is always so fucking _nice_.

He feels something pressing on his chest. It's squeezing, making it hard to think. He closes his eyes and tries not to hyperventilate. He's got a bottle of Klonopin at home for heading off panic attacks, but it's not doing him any good there. He doesn't want to ask for something, though. Doesn't want anyone to know just how close to falling apart he is.

Mrs. McCall comes back and puts her hand on Stiles's shoulder. He wants to shrug her off because being touched right now just makes him feel worse. 

She tells him, "He's got a perforated bowel. That's what's taking so long."

Stiles takes out his phone again and starts searching. Surgical procedures, statistics, survival rates. He scrolls through the information because it's easier to see it on an impersonal screen than to hear it from someone he knows.

He collapses back into a hard chair when he's done and puts his head in his hands. And then he waits.

* * *

"I'm _fine_ , son," his father is saying. His voice is a little thready and he's sickly pale. That doesn't stop him from being Dad, though. "Go home. You look like crap."

Surgery took four and a half hours because they had to remove part of the small intestine, and then it took what seemed like forever for his dad to wake up again. Stiles has been dead on his feet for awhile. Still, he'd rather stay at the hospital just in case.

But his dad isn't letting him. "Just because I got stabbed doesn't mean I can't ground you, Stiles."

Stiles winces. He'd better do as he's told. "Sure, okay. I'll go. But it's under duress!" 

His father smiles like he didn't just almost die.

* * *

Stiles collapses into bed, still feeling the tightness in his chest and the boulder in his stomach.

He jumps when the corner shadow moves toward him.

"Jesus jumping Christ, Derek," Stiles breathes in relief when he sees who it is. "What are you doing here?"

"How is he?" Derek asks. He clicks on the lamp and sits in Stiles's chair as if it was offered.

Stiles runs a hand over his face. The absolute terror of the evening is still running through him without relief. Without _assuagement_. Still, it feels good to say, "He'll be okay."

With a tilt of his head, Derek stares hard at Stiles like he's looking for something. "Are _you_ okay?"

He has to close his eyes. He doesn't know why Derek is here, looking at him like that, asking after him. It doesn't make much sense. Unless Derek actually cares about him, and that...

That feels good. Odd, but good.

"I will be," Stiles says. Then, "I could've lost him. I could've lost everything tonight." He thinks at the last moment that Derek lost so much in one night and then later on lost his sister, too. Stiles's heart clenches. He's never thought much about it before. He opens his eyes and looks back at Derek. "Thanks."

"For?"

"Asking," Stiles says. _Caring_. He sits up on the bed despite his weariness.

Derek shifts, looking uncomfortable. Stiles wishes he knew what was going on in his mind. It would make dealing with him simpler. It's good that he's here, though. He makes Stiles feel better, somehow. The horror of the night begins to bleed out of him, finally. He doesn't know why Derek's presence does this, just that it does.

"Will you stay?" Stiles blurts without thinking.

Derek doesn't laugh at him or even crack a smile. He just nods.

Stiles sighs and kicks his shoes off, then lets himself fall back to the bed. "Thanks. Again." He's glad he doesn't have to talk about why he wants Derek here while he sleeps. He's glad he doesn't have to say those words. He's too wrung out to talk about his feelings, especially feelings he doesn't understand himself.

And Derek is too closed off.

Or at least, that's what Stiles assumes. Maybe he's not. Maybe his coming here tonight is the beginning of something new. Maybe he's opening up to … something. Possibilities.

"I can hear you thinking," Derek says. His voice is soft and even. Nice. "It's pretty loud. Go to sleep."

Stiles is glad Derek isn't being literal. If he knew what Stiles was thinking all the time, Stiles might have to die of embarrassment. "Mmkay," Stiles agrees, his mind already floating off into a dream.

Maybe he won't have nightmares about his dad with Derek there.

* * *

Early morning light is just starting to come through the edges of the window when Stiles feels a hand on his shoulder. It's warm and comforting and Stiles grabs for it and pulls before he can think.

"Stiles," Derek says softly. "Stiles, I have to go."

When he opens his eyes, Stiles sees Derek looking at him with a small smile on his face. He doesn't see that very often. Not like this, like it's just for him.

He knows Derek has to get back to the pack before they tear the place down. That he's stayed as long as he has is another hint of how much he cares. Derek caring is still a revelation, a concept so new Stiles doesn't know what to do with it.

"Okay. Um. Thanks for staying with me," Stiles says.

Stiles thinks Derek's going to say 'It was nothing' but he doesn't, he just squeezes Stiles's hand where Stiles is still holding on and then leans in to press his forehead against Stiles's temple. It's the first real act of affection that Stiles can remember, and he wants to freeze the moment in time.

"I could come back. Later," Derek says softly, his lips close to Stiles's ear. Stiles shivers, but then Derek pulls back to look at him full in the face.

Stiles wants to be cool about it, say he can handle the aftermath of all of this on his own. He could; he's used to it by now. But he hears something else in Derek's words, if he reads between the lines a little, and then he's nodding. "Yeah. Whenever you can. That's an open invitation, by the way."

"I'll keep that in mind," Derek says. "Meanwhile, take a shower. You smell like hospital."

Stiles scrunches his nose. "Gross."

Derek smiles. "I'll be back." Then he's moving away and hopping out the window before Stiles can suggest he use the front door like a person.

Stiles closes his eyes, smiles, and thinks, _assuagement_.


End file.
